


it started out with a kiss

by spectacularsam



Category: Secret History - Donna Tartt
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Pining, they did drink a lil before doing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectacularsam/pseuds/spectacularsam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard Papen is pining after his friend, Francis. What else is new?</p>
            </blockquote>





	it started out with a kiss

Francis Abernathy was lying lazily on the couch, his legs swaying off the armrest. He looked like an awful king who refused to pay much attention to the peasants at his feet. In one hand he stirred a half empty glass of white wine, in the other he was busying with his tie, complaining of the heat in high whining octaves. Sometimes his eyes would meet mine just for a fleeting moment. The second I looked back at his, he had turned his head warily away with a flutter of long lashes hiding those glassy eyes. His tie had come off and was tossed carelessly across the room of his apartment. He was working with unfastening the first few buttons of his shirt. My eyes darted across the sharpness of his collarbones and the soft paleness of his skin. I took another sip of wine and my thoughts remained drunken and careless with desire. At once, I became flushed and felt rather foolish that I would imagine such things with a dear friend of mine. Then my thoughts shifted to the idea that perhaps he felt the same and was trying to convey that with each passing glance. Or rather, I was quite nearly drunk. Just imagine the two of us intertwined, sloppy intoxicated young men. My face grew even hotter, a burning desire.   
"It is very hot in here." I agreed with him despite his complaints having been spoken ten minutes ago. Following suit, I popped open a few buttons myself. What does he think of my flesh? Darker than his, not as soft, freckled, my bones not as sharp. Did he enjoy that look? As I was transfixed at the glass in my hand, I could feel his eyes on me unless it was my own urges causing disillusions. If we do not make a move, if we stay here on opposite couches, hot and bothered by the heat (temperature and otherwise), will I further imagine us sharing the humid warmth and wake up the day prior sweating and panicking as if it all were real?  
When I looked at Francis again, his drink was finished and more buttons had been undone. The shirt created a V that led down to his sternum. His skin was taut across his chest, if there was any hair on it, I could not see it from this distance. He bit his bottom lip until it swelled a pretty pink color. His features so angular that they were like diagonals pointing to the plumpness of his lips that looked as soft as the rest of his skin. I stood up, finishing my wine and slamming the glass down dramatically.   
"Leaving so soon?" asked Francis in that bored snobby voice of his. As if he were that careless king resting on his throne and I the peasant unsure of how to word my request. I leaned over him, my heart thudding against my rib cage like a frantic bird. With feigned politeness, I snatched away his glass and put it aside. Still, I was suspended in a hover over his thin body that sprawled across the couch. All I could do was inch away from this tension filled moment. Yet that was the same moment that Francis gripped me to bring our bodies closer. A gasp escaped me. Francis was breathing heavy like a dog in heat. What now? What now?   
His fingers became lost in my uncut hair, tugging in such a way that a small cry came out of me but it was not from pain. His other hand was on my waist, planted firmly as if we intended to waltz at any given time. We did not waltz. Instead we kissed passionately. His mouth inched to mine first but I closed the space between them. I tasted his wine and cigarettes and I just wanted to taste more.   
The hand on my waist pulled me further down that I had to prop my knees on the couch, on either side of his slim hips. I pulled away to catch my breathe for only a moment when he sat up and pushed me onto my back. This time he hovered over me, kissing my neck. He got rougher, biting and sucking, claiming his territory. All my buttons were undone with his nimble fingers. He was as soft as I imagined.   
To my utter surprise, his hands were working fast on taking off my pants. He was kissing my torso with sloppy wet lips. It ignited my body and rose goose bumps on my skin. I was panting and Francis had only just begun. His tongue traced my hip bone, making me jerk. My pants were down to the middle of my thigh. All that was left were my underwear that Francis' face was dangerously close to. He palmed my erection that I had since our lips first met. He seemed to enjoy that I squirmed under every touch he gave me.   
He knowingly teased me, smirking at my reactions. When I was finally exposed, he lightly touched me with one hand when his mouth was so close. He brushed over the tip with his thumb.   
"Francis." I moaned. Never would I have pictured myself doing that before this night. He was so smug, beaming with triumph. I would want to hit him if we were in any other situation.   
He laughed briefly before gliding his tongue over me. My fingers were knitted into his red hair when he finally took me into his mouth. I released a low groan while Francis bobbed his head and sucked in his cheeks. He felt like heaven. I was flushed half because I was mortified at how intimate we have become in such a short span of time.   
My lips parted and it was as if I were floating. Nothing compared to the racing of my heart keeping in time to the bobbing of his head. I was finished, wrecked beyond belief. The only thing left on my mind was that I wanted to please him in some way.   
Francis was not brave enough to swallow, although I can't imagine him ever doing so. He spat in his glass and left it as it were. "I'll mark that one with a radioactive waste symbol." He sniffed. "Perhaps with something more whimsical. Surely there's something from Alice in-"  
I kissed him hard and full of hunger. Francis laughed in between our fierce kisses. He kept pulling my hair and biting my neck. I found myself breathless. I reached down between his thighs. My hand moved playfully around, grasping and pinching at him. In the midst of our making out, I had undone his pants and slipped my hand inside his underwear. He gasped while I kissed his Adam's apple. Then he groaned when I began stroking him. I had never done this to any man before. I feared he would feel my fingertips trembling. Then again, he may enjoy the sensation.   
With the other hand, I tore open the rest of his buttons. He was smooth, soft, and freckled. Our eyes met for a moment then I kissed my way down his torso.   
He was gasping for air while I playing with him using only my mouth. I’ve never been down on another man, let alone a close friend of mine. He tasted salty and was a real ginger. I kept hollowing out my cheeks. Eventually, I added my hand back in for I was inexperienced and could simply not imagine pushing him further into my mouth. But Francis was enjoying me, so it seemed. With little back arches, tugs on my hair, the noises he made left my heart in pieces. I was sick with satisfaction as he mumbled my name before unraveling in sharp cry.   
Embarrassed and somewhat uncomfortable by the hot aftertaste, I spat in my glass. My mouth felt unclean and my cheeks were aflame. There was a half silence, filled only with Francis catching his breath.   
“You aren’t used to it, huh?” Francis chided. “Your first time, is it?” His eyes were half closed, eyelashes fanning out on his high cheekbones.   
“Does it matter?” I retorted.   
Francis shook his head lazily. “Of course not.” We hadn’t fixed our clothing yet, perhaps we were both yearning for a little more. “Either way, you weren’t that bad.” He stressed the word “that.”   
I pinned his wrists over his head. “That?”   
Francis snorted. “You’re getting all dominating now, are you?”   
I frowned and let him go.   
“Listen, if you want stop by tomorrow night-”   
I answered him by leaving a hickey just by his collarbone. Francis made a soft moan.   
“Tomorrow night.” He repeated.

**Author's Note:**

> shit i forgot about my tea


End file.
